


The Lion Cubs

by turuneshaquila



Series: The Lioness [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turuneshaquila/pseuds/turuneshaquila
Summary: Set in and out of the Lioness's storyline, this is a collection of stories about her children, whom everyone calls Lion Cubs.
Series: The Lioness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086068





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the part with the most confused timelines on earth, sorry in advance.

“Who is that?”

“Who is who?”

“That young man who just walked in.”

His friend surveyed the newcomer, who was immaculately dressed for the occasion. “He’s not all that much to look at.”

“He walked in and no one checked his invitation, they just bowed. Watch him.”

The young man was moving through the room, greeting even staff and employees of the foundation. He was heading in a straight line for the CEO. No one stopped him, instead they opened the way for him until he was happily embracing the CEO, who had delightedly cried, “My son!” before throwing her arms around him.

The room tried not to stare as they held each other’s arms and enthusiastically caught up.

A third friend joined the two. He saw the newcomer, and his eyes widened. “That’s a Lion Cub.”

“A what?”

“A Lion Cub. You know the Lioness? I mean you know about her?”

“Who doesn’t. But she’s more of a cult legend, isn’t she?”

“The CEO is one of her sisters. Well, ‘sisters.’ And that guy is one of the Lioness’s adopted sons, they call themselves the Lion Cubs.”

“How much are they worth?”

“No one is actually sure after she married the Lion. But the Lion Cubs all have assets in their names.”

“Cub!” Someone called, and Jordan Ilytian walked up to the young man, who kissed his aunt on both cheeks then released her arms.

“Jordan! My favorite arch enemy. Do you actually know my name?”

“Who cares, I know your face.”

The Lion Cub chuckled.

“You owe me a competition.”

“After the banquet.”

“The Lioness won’t get you out of this one.”

“It was your father who called her first, if I recall correctly.”

“Motorbikes?”

“You’re on!”

After the banquet, all of the younger people left the area to gather around the two motorbikes.

The Lion Cub glanced over Jordan Ilytian’s gear, then turned his head.

A black-clad man ran up to Jordan with a better jacket with more powerful spine protection, and a crash helmet.

“Must you promote your line?”

“Yes. Besides, they look good on you. I’ll send you a commercial modeling contract.”

Jordan Ilytian started to laugh.

Two more black-clad men ran over to the competitors, with a phone in each hand.

“Stay safe,” the Lioness said to her Cub, and “Good luck,” she said to Jordan.

“Stay safe,” Richard Ilytian said to his son, and “Good luck,” he said to the Cub.

The boys dropped their face shields, lowered their bodies, and shot off at the sound of the pistol.

“Are you sure they’re arch enemies?” The first friend asked.

“The Lioness’s first client as a strategist was Richard Ilytian. The Lion Cub and Jordan Ilytian have been at war since they were boys, but they are best friends.”


	2. Lion Cub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone tries to hurt a Lion Cub. He doesn't succeed.

“Where’s the Lion Cub?”

“I gave the kid the wrong address. He’ll probably be in an emergency room tonight.”

The young count’s friend studied his face. “Really?”

“Yes, did you think I was joking? He was getting on my nerves.”

His friend blew out a lungful of air, slowly.

“What.”

“You should have done your research, my friend. There are three things you should know about a Lion Cub. _Any_ Lion Cub.

“First, they’re never alone unless they explicitly wish it.

“Second, their mother is a black belt.

“Third, their father is a black belt.

“Fourth, the Lion Cubs train under their mother’s best friend, a triple black belt.”

“So what? My men aren’t slouches, they can take down a fancy Lion Cub.”

“You forgot the first thing.”

“They can take down his fancy bodyguards too.”

“Ah you see, you wrongly assume they’re just bodyguards.”

“Stop being dramatic and tell me.”

“Let’s just say I have yet to hear of a case where there was only one Lion Cub in the area.”

“You’re overestimating them.”

“Their mother was an escort who built an empire. I would say _you’re_ underestimating _them_.”

The Lion Cub walked into the cafe, sunshine yellow over-sized sweater unscathed. “Oh hi, you’re here! I think you gave me the wrong address at first.” He ordered coffee and returned to their table, taking over a chair.

“Sorry you had to come from there,” the count’s friend said, seeing the count was quite blank.

“Ah, no. I had to finish a conversation at the dinner we came from, and my brother said you weren’t at the venue. Good thing, too. Apparently there were some thugs around.”

“Good thing,” the count managed to echo.


	3. Chapter 3

**CUBFINDER**

“Hey, Cub.”

“Hey, Cub.”

The taller, heavier-set young man sat down beside another, darker, slimmer one.

“That’s it?”

The taller one looked at the girl beside his brother. “What’s it?”

“Cub, that’s all you’re going to call each other?”

“Yeah,” the brothers answered at the same time.

“Do you know each other?”

“Theoretically, yeah,” the taller one said.

“ _Theoretically._ ”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know each other’s names?”

“Cub,” they answered.

“Seriously though.”

“It’s too much hassle,” the slimmer one complained. Both boys dug for their mobile phones.

“What are you doing?” She said in confusion as they each held their phones up to the other’s face.

“Cubfinder. It’s an app,” the taller one explained.

“An app.”

“Ronan. Irish descent . . . that’s quite a background.”  
“Yusuf, Arabic descent. You’re one to talk.”

“Are you reading about each other?”

“Yeah.”

“On the app.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you insulted or anything? I thought you were brothers?”

“Blame mother,” Ronan complained. “There’s so many Lion Cubs we can barely keep track of each other.”

“There’s that many of you.”

“Yep.”

“How many?”

“Dunno. It’s in the app.”

“So your own mother—“

“Ah, no,” Yusuf interrupted. “Never. The Lioness always knows her Cubs.”  
“Not to say she doesn’t mix up our names,” Ronan grinned. “But then, all mothers do that, so it would be pretty freaky if she didn’t.”

“So you don’t bother to memorize each other’s names?” The girl asked.

“Some I know, some I’m closer to,” Yusuf explained, Ronan nodding in the background. “But sometimes, it just gets away from me. Cub is what we are, who we are, it’s our identity and our uniting factor. Nothing better than being a Cub.”

“Huh.”

“Ah well.” The Cubs grinned at each other.


	4. Not an Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl goes to a new school and doesn't fit anywhere into the hierarchy.

Tara Darisi walked down the halls of lockers, an entourage of young men and women students following. There was nothing particularly "branded" about her shoes or bag, or their shoes and bags, but eyes used to quality wear reviewed the stitching and maintenance and did not find them wanting.

That done, they turned their eyes to Tara herself. Despite her name, she was obviously East Asian, and any work she'd had done was most skillfully hidden. The next round of checks reviewed her makeup quality and style. Nothing was wanting. 

Tara ignored the staring eyes and led her group to a row of lockers, where they opened them for the first time and put in their books. "They're staring," Tara murmured.

"You're new," her right hand partner murmured back.

"Ha, thanks." When Tara turned around, there was nothing of her comment in her face or body language, and the group walked to class. 

After the class, the social leaders sauntered over to Tara's desk, pretending to ignore how her entourage shifted in their seats the closer she came. 

"We need to place you," the class leader said. 

Tara glanced at the class leader's name pin, and smiled warmly. "Hi, I'm Tara."

"You introduced yourself in front a while ago. Is she stupid?" the class leader said to her group, and they snickered.

"Sure, what's this placing?"

"There are only four levels in this school. The heirs of companies. Firstborns, only children, that kind of thing. Second are the major stockholders, who probably won't inherit. Third are the new rich, with money to burn. And fourth are, of course, the ones who wouldn't end up here in the first place without the school giving them money. Students in need. Which one are you?"

Tara thought, then frowned and looked at her entourage. 

Their lips twitched. 

She looked even more confused.

"We, we are mostly...sponsored," Tara's right hand partner said. His origin was indeterminate, with the clean lines of a Central Asian jaw but the wintry blue eyes of Eastern Europe. 

"Students in need, then," the class leader said dismissively. "And you, Tara?"

Another of the social leaders glanced over the entourage's watches and jewelry and doubted they were students in need. Nouveau riche, maybe. Certainly not in need. Or maybe the sponsorship extended to apparel?

Tara looked helplessly at her partner. 

"None of the above," he answered for her.

"Probably too proud to say nouveau riche," another social leader muttered.

"Nouveau riche could cover it," Tara's partner nodded.

Tara shrugged. "Sure, that could cover it." 

The social leaders, heirs all, scoffed and left.

\---

"Why do I have to come along?" Tara's class leader, at home, raised her voice. "This is a business opening party, not a family meetup."

"The President and CEO is very family-oriented, and she requested we bring our families with us. Hers will be there as well. It's a formal opening with an exclusive dinner, our contract with them is worth millions, now will you please finish dressing up?"

The class leader and her parents arrived at the new 7-floor fashion boutique and were immediately escorted to an exclusive elevator that led straight to the events hall on the 7th floor. There, tables were set up and arranged, each place with a name card.

After a casual glance right and left to see who had beat their companies to the first tables, they sat down at their name cards. 

The whole first two rows of tables had no name cards. They only said, "Family."

"How big is her family that we have to be moved so far back," the class leader's mother scoffed.

As guests arrived, they started to find out. From the private suites behind the stage young people spilled out one or five at a time, laughing and talking, glancing around the room, and sitting in the first two rows in no apparent order. They had no apparent single origin, either. There were also a fair amount of children, odd in a formal dinner event. 

The class leader stared at the filling tables. "What sort of a partner have you found? Are they running a charity organization?"

Her mother, thinking of her reputation, relaxed as she realized everyone else in that room, the cream of business society, would suffer the same loss and did not answer.

The class leader rolled her eyes and left her parents to gather with her friends at the back. It was close to the nurses with the younger children, but anywhere was better than with their parents. "What is this? Are they making fun of us?"

Her friends murmured agreement.

The last to emerge from the private suite were an older couple, although not old enough to be parents to anyone in the first two rows except the younger children. The wife was Southeast Asian, small and fiery; the husband was Central Asian, tall and intense. They smiled at the room without reservation and took their seats at the front. As if they had pushed a button, children climbed into their laps. 

Tara Darisi walked on stage and smiled at the room. Her entourage, except for her right hand partner, spread around the stage. "Hello, it's so good to see all of you here, especially my classmates at the back. Welcome to the opening of my fashion boutique. I very much hope our families will continue to have good relations moving forward." 

As Tara was thanking and appreciating her family, her right hand partner sidled up to the group at the back. "I think you'll need to update that ranking to five levels. Students in need, nouveau riche, major stockholders, heirs, and company owners." He grinned. "School is a sponsored employee benefit. That's us. Sponsored. See you at school."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find parallels in the dialogue and hierarchical structure to The Heirs, it's not an accident; this chapter was directly inspired by those scenes.


	5. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two journalists discuss a recent hostage negotiation case connected to the Lioness.

"Hey. Haven't gone home yet?"

"No." Seth chuckled. It was 7 AM in The Daily, and he had neither slept nor ate overnight.

"Thought you wouldn't." Ravi put a store-bought paper cup of coffee on the desk beside Seth's laptop.

"Thanks." Seth drank down a mouthful, ignoring the heat. "That is better. I'll finish this, that okay? Meet you for lunch."

"Nope. I brought the coffee, I get the scoop. Let's hear it."

Seth rubbed his eyes. "Fair enough. Heard of the Lioness?"

"Tsk."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, remember that high-level hostage negotiation about a week ago, where she didn't show up?"

"No one will let her forget that."

"Probably not. Anyway, apparently she flew home because one of her cubs had pneumonia, a pretty bad case at that, and she didn't leave his side until he was out of danger."

"So . . . let me guess the news articles. 'Lioness puts one sick son ahead of hostage negotiation that could have saved dozens.'"

"Pretty much."

"Ouch. How is the Pride responding?"

"You betray yourself," Seth teased. Ravi was an unashamed fan of the family.

"I do, I do. Well?"

"Well, the Lioness is on record as saying if she does not put her children first, she cannot tell others to do the same. Which, as a defense, is nothing."

"Yeah. So . . . but there was like a news blackout, right? Like, it just fell off media radar?"

"Yes. Because the Pride saved the hostages. But not through negotiation, let's just put it that way."

"Ooooh. Is this the famed Force Arkangel?"

"We're assuming, although of course we always assume it's them out of convenience. And there are quite a few lion cubs with strings of their own to pull. I've reached out for an exclusive, but there's no response, so I'll just say I reached out, etc."

"Now YOU owe me a cup of coffee." Ravi placed a few printed sheets beside Seth's laptop.

"An exclusive? HOW—"

"I asked nicely. Sort of. You're welcome!"

"Huh. But thank you."


End file.
